**All opinions welcome; critique is encouraged :)**
- I left the car unlocked, the keys in the ignition, the overhead light beaming and the CD player running, blaring, screaming out that it wanted to be stolen. The black light of shadows played its way a million times over the champagne paintjob, ranging close enough to smell the faint rot of coffee she spilt on the pebble-strewn backseat carpet when it still mattered what the upholstery looked like -
And then I let go. Free mind jumping puddles, free mind skipping stones. Free mind dancing on roof ledges in pink downy slippers, proclaiming that the moon sleeps on city high hilltops, hidden from your eyes by the tree guardians that whisper when we pass. I heard them speaking in hushed tones and they led me to where she sleeps, pearlized eyes and thread-sewn mouth. They asked me nothing, they explained nothing; they pilfered only my inhibitions, allowing me to offer the rest to the world. They never illuminated, in clear spoken words, why her mouth was sewn shut, but I think I’ve figured it out by now
[as I close my lips and inhale the sunset].
The clouds are on a four-way trip to the sun, One thinks as she moves her hips in sway with the dash of wind running at her face, pulling her hair into a hypothetical summer bonnet, letting it fall into the dirt as she rushes to her knees. Only from the ground, she realizes, can we truly love the sun – only from our own eyes can we see it. She folds herself into a box of logic [from the perspective of an ant, One must understand], her knees forming the peak culmination of all nonsense. One is in love with the way things burn; the way the sun burns the clouds, she ponders, must be a lovely sight. Picture snap shots form melting pot bonfires on the lawn…
…..I silenced the flame…..
…..and this is what happens when you leave little Johnny home alone; please inform your children on the dangers of playing with matches.
[they seem to think it’s a bad thing that we like to watch the world burn]
One changed her name yesterday…I think it might be They now. She doesn’t like it so much, she said, but she needed to experience what it’s like to know everything. [I informed her I’d define it as Nothing and she got defensive, throwing her non-knowledge at me; I think she thought it’d maim my beliefs. It only made them stronger]. I told her it’s much like knowing a little and then forgetting it over tea, while our crackers transform themselves into misshapen monstrosities, this one without a head, this one with six legs [They glued them together with her own spit; I told her it was much too unladylike. She laughed, I laughed. We found we were both wrong in our assumptions]. She seemed to concur. That made me awfully disappointed; she cried and I cried, and we again found we were both incoherent and mistaken.
I only have One’s request [I liked her better before she became They]: please stop apologizing for all ego trips, for all moon landings, for all walks through minds that only end in remembering that some grammar is almost, but not quite. [i before e except after c, and when…. and when I take the language up a notch and realize that words with only one spelling are limiting their potential]
She and I went walking. She dropped her name in the trash receptacle that seems to be the sentry post of my front porch; she decided she had no use for a name. I concurred and added mine to the debris. We are both now Nothing.
I’m happier this way.
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